School boy errors

It's reasonably simple to get on with the day-to-day life stuff here. Whether it's the effects of globalisation, Turkey's drive to close the gap with the EU europe, or just that there are a limited number of ways that butter can sensibly be packaged, things on a basic level don't seem that different to home. So by and large I've been getting by.

But I am of course still making some elementary finding-my-feet mistakes. These are no big deal really. For instance buying the Wrong Kind of Cheese - shouldn't be a problem really, just have to eat that one first and look more carefully next time. Buying a bumper pack of kitchen roll when I was going for toilet paper was marginally more embarrassing, though. Our island has that small town feel, including only one person on the mini-market checkout; so she probably remembered me when I went back 20 minutes later for the bog roll, and therefore would have worked out that not only am I an inept shopper, I also really needed a shit.

However my favourite to date took place yesterday. We were in the Mısır Çarşısı, a busy spice & goodies market right in the tourist hub of Eminönü. I was hanging about whilst t'missus bought some lokum (turkish delight) (yes we're living the cliché). Probably clocking my baseball hat and backpack, some stall holders start chatting to me in English, trying to get me interested in their stuff.

Them: Hello, how are you, where are you from?
Me: [polite smile, looking away, don't want to take the bait]
Them: Hey, I know you, you were here yesterday
Me [in turkish, thinking that if I can display some language chops they might take me for bit less of a visitor] No, definitely not
Them [in turkish, and now nudging each other and grinning away] The shop is open, you know that? [english] You know [turkish] 'shop is open'?
Me [puzzled, thinking of course the bleedin' shop is open, it's a busy marketplace at 2.30 in the afternoon] Yes, I know 'shop'. Shop is, er shop?

These guys are still going on, and I'm losing touch of what they're saying, and then a stall holder from across the market joins in. I can't work out what he is saying either but he is saying something to my guys and looking disapproving, whilst the giggly twins are trying to persuade me that he is their older brother and there's nothing to worry about.

Fortunately S then sweeps in, drags me away, tells me that I probably should do up my trousers, and that 'your shop is open' is the polite way of informing someone in turkish that your fly is open. So basically I just had half a market discussing my pants. Score!